


Hot and Bothered

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-27
Updated: 2004-02-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: The Morning after 308. Justin at the office.





	Hot and Bothered

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Justin grinned a lot.

Things had been busy, but he didn’t mind. At least, he didn’t mind until the third person in a row asked him exactly how lucky he’d gotten last night, and what *her* name was, at which point he got a little miffed. However, just the thought of responding to such comments by saying ‘fucking lucky, and *his* name is Brian, thank you very much’ was enough to coax the grin back. 

He was amazed, actually, at how steady he felt – well, steadily grinning, anyway. He certainly hadn’t felt steady when he first woke up that morning; on the contrary, the first thing he could solidly remember was a confused rush of thoughts along the lines of ‘wow, I’m back in bed with Brian and Brian’s eyes are open and he is watching me and we fucked all night and now he’d going to push me out and tell me this is all a dream, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck’. Not exactly grin material. But at the time there had been no chance to think about it. They were both late, somehow they’d both managed to sleep through Brian’s alarm, so really there was no time to pay attention to much of anything other than the mad dash to get out of the door. But as soon as they’d reached the agency, he was totally distracted by the mellow buzz of residual satiation in his body, the grin had shown up and made itself home.

Getting lucky. Yeah. When he thought about it, that was a pretty apt description. Yeah, he’d really gotten lucky last night, damn lucky, all kinds of lucky. In fact, as the day wore on through assignments and a boring meeting he had to attend, he found his ability to focus on the job hopelessly compromised by a growing enthusiasm for getting lucky again.

And it took a while, a few hours at least, before it occurred to him to wonder exactly why he felt so damn lucky. One of the guys at the art department snagged him just before lunch, roped him into some stupid discussion about fonts, so he called Brian on his cell and told him that their lunch appointment was off. And Brian sounded perfectly fine with that, perfectly normal, and it was only after he’d hung up that Justin realized that Brian’s blunt, normal response had given him one big, aching hard-on. Thankfully he was sitting behind a desk. 

He sat there for a while, bemusedly regarding the prodigious bulge at his crotch, squirming a little at the ache but not really feeling the urge to go to the bathroom to take care of it because … because…

Well, because it would be so much better to wait until Brian could take care of it for him. Hand, mouth, whatever – at this point, Brian could probably look him into orgasm, especially if he had that no-nonsense, don’t-fuck-with-me-just-let-me-do-this look on. Justin shivered, and the guy next to him asked him if he was cold. Justin barely suppressed a laugh. 

Intense. God, it had been so intense. In a way he hadn’t been prepared for. Sure, he’d been stalking Brian, sort of. And yeah, he’d been having all sorts of fantasies. Like both of them fucking in mid air. Daphne had been pretty impressed to hear about that one. Justin would bet her fantasies were a lot more … well, lame, really. True, she was a lot more experienced these days, or at least he hoped she was. Still, he couldn’t think anyone but Brian could make you dream such things. 

With Ethan things hadn’t been bad. They’d fucked a lot. But Brian … Brian was different. With Brian it was a rare treat, Justin knew that now. His body and mind were totally engaged by the same thing with Brian. Especially last night. The intensity of their reunion still surprised him, and his brain lined up possible reasons for that neatly and effortlessly, as comfortable in the realm of theory as it ever was. 

The length of time he’d gone without Brian, the undeniable thrill of doing it in Brian’s office, on Brian’s desk, with the door closed, but unlocked. Brian’s talented hands, his talented mouth, talented tongue, talented … God, the guy was so fucking talented. These should be enough causes. He was about to break it down further, assign levels of probability to each and maybe pick out a favorite, but in a surprise move his mind gave him a hard time about it, showing a marked tendency to stray off in directions that had nothing to do with fonts and everything with a certain cock being shoved up his ass. 

He could still feel it tingling. 

How come he’d forgotten about Brian’s gorgeous hands, the long skilled fingers. And that beautiful, huge dick. A dick he’d tried his best to forget, but that still had invaded his dreams. He hadn’t really been paying attention last night, too happy to be stuffed with Brian’s hard, hot length, but he made a promise to himself to worship the part properly tonight. 

Justin shifted restlessly in his chair, allowed himself to close his eyes while Andrew droned out about color and lettering, and for a moment imagined that Brian was there, maybe laid out naked right in the middle of this room, in the middle of all these people … no. Under. Under the desk, whoa … under the desk, hidden, insisting on remaining hidden, insisting that Justin just go about business as usual, or what went for usual these days, while he … while he …

Oooooh. Ah. Justin’s hips lifted of their own accord, seeking, thighs spreading lax from the sudden hot erotic rush. His mind offered up a stunningly precise picture of himself sitting here, face to face with (Jesus!) Andrew. His eyes snapped open and fighting like hell to keep his calm look of attentive sagacity while under the desk … Brian touched him. Squeezed him. Unzipped him. Touched him, stroked him, licked him, nibbled, sucked, oh yeah, sucked, hot wet tight, Brian’s mouth down on him, sucking, eating him up-

“…, Justin?”

He sat suddenly bolt upright in his chair, and found eight pairs of eyes on him, once again glad that the desk hid his lower half. His dick was twitching and lurching, and his lips opened. “Yes?” God, was that squeak really his voice?

Andrew frowned, but repeated the question nevertheless. “What do you think of pink?”

Pink?

And all of a sudden the grin was back. “Orange,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, hiding his lower half even more efficiently. “Orange,” he repeated. “Orange is the new blue.”

“Orange?” Andrew’s frown deepened, but he seemed to consider it. 

“Orange sounds interesting.” That from Tina, the brown haired girl who’d told him the first day that she was sure Brian wasn’t really that gay. That the right woman could probably *help* him. 

“Alright, orange it is.” Andrew was nodding now. “You’re good, Justin. Really good.”

Yeah, he was good. Really good. After all, he’d gotten Brian back. He nodded at Andrew and went right back to grinning.


End file.
